Snapshot
by Kyrian
Summary: Five snapshots of the relationship between Nora and Hancock.


John Hancock walks into her life on the end of someone else's.

She hasn't been in the Commonwealth long enough to look the other way at casual murder. At heart, she's still half a housewife, fussing over her newborn and wondering dreamily how she's going to adjust to getting a job again after so much time at home. 90% of her life has gone by without having someone else's blood on her boots, unless you count the time Edna Huggins tried to kiss Nate right in front of her and she broke her nose.

So the instant that the leathery man in front of her pulls out the knife and sinks it into Finn's gut, she's shocked. It makes a soft, wet sound; the same sound she used to hear when she was tenderizing meat for dinner. The comparison does nothing for her nausea. Finn collapses to the ground, lets out a shaky groan, and that's the last noise he ever makes

The man in the blood-red coat wipes the knife off and puts it back where it came from, muttering something to the corpse at his feet. Then he looks over at Nora, and strangely, there's real concern in his eyes.

"You all right sister?" he asks. Nora blinks, momentarily unable to process thought. There's a dead man on the ground that had just been talking to her. At this point, she's sunk plenty of lead into people that deserved it, but she's fairly convinced that her sharp tongue and possibly a knee to the groin would have driven him off. Death was not necessary.

"Your face." she blurts out instinctively, seeing the way his skin sinks and stretches. It looks almost like a burn, but not quite. Different somehow. "Something...happen?"

The man gives her a suggestive smile. His nose is missing.

"Like it? I think it gives me a sexy, king of the zombies kinda look. Big hit with the ladies." he says playfully.

His nose is missing.

She doesn't reply, because his nose is missing, so he carries on as if any part of this conversation is normal.

"I'm a ghoul, you see? Lots of walking rad freaks like me around here, so you might wanna keep those kinds of questions on the low burner next time." his voice holds a hint of reproach, and she understands that what she's said is probably insensitive but she still doesn't really get it. A ghoul? Rad freak?

She thinks suddenly of a museum exhibit she'd seen one time in her college years, a lone shoe in a glass case, size six in children's. Black, the kind you wear with a school uniform. The rest of the little girl had never been found after the bomb was dropped on Hiroshima. All that was left of her was her shoe.

The ghoul in front of her coughs into a closed fist and she realizes she hasn't spoken in a few minutes.

"Uh… sorry. What is this place?" she asks, because that seems like a safe topic and also something she needs to know.

"This is Goodneighbor. Goodneighbor's of the people, for the people, you feel me? Everyone's welcome."

He gestures to the city grandly, the row of shops behind him, the crumbling brick building to his left, the dead body at his feet. For the people… just not people like Finn, she thinks.

Hancock gives her a speech, equal parts friendliness and warning. She nods her way through it, nausea swimming in her stomach, and is relieved when he finally turns and walks away, disappearing into the crumbling brick building.

She remembers the sound of meat being tenderized, steak cold and wet under her fingers as she makes dinner, and staggers over to a corner to vomit.

The body gets left there for the rest of the night, before someone gets tired of the smell and throws it out the front gates.

It's weeks later, at the Third Rail, before she sees the man in the red frockcoat again. She's supposed to be in Diamond City, tracking down Kellogg, but Piper's newest issue of Publick Occurences has her in exile for a short period while people calm down. Nobody had specifically told her to skip town, but after she heard Travis mention over the radio that Mayor McDonough denied the accusations in the article, she just felt safer in another place.

She gets herself a tumbler of whiskey and finds an empty table where she can rub at her tired eyes. She doesn't really like whiskey, but it tastes less like battery acid than the vodka does. It's still habit to automatically refuse Nuka Cola that isn't diet, even though it's been months since she had to worry about her figure. Now she wishes she'd put on a few pounds; maybe it would keep random creatures and people from throwing her around so often.

"Well, well, if it isn't the Vault girl. How's tricks, sister?" someone says from over her shoulder. When she turns to look, Hancock slides into the seat across from her. He's got a full bottle of vodka in one hand and a magenta inhaler in the other. Despite their less-than-friendly meeting before, in which Nora managed to speak only enough to insult Hancock's face, he grins at her in what seems to be a genuine manner.

"Mayor Hancock." she says in greeting. She's not sure if the title is necessary, but it seems a better choice to keep it.

"I read that article about you that little miss Piper ran in her newspaper. Explains a lot about your weird reaction upon arrival. I'm, uh… sorry to have thrown you to the metaphorical sharks like that." he says. The apology is followed up by a hit of Jet and a slug of vodka; Hancock lets out a pleased sigh as they hit his system and relaxes back into his seat. Nora resists the urge to take a swig of her own drink instead of replying.

"No, I'm sorry I acted the way I did. The Commonwealth is… overwhelming sometimes. I was still getting used to how different everything is here."

That seems to be enough for Hancock, who offers her a friendly smile and his inhaler. Nora waves it off but he doesn't seem deterred.

"Guess you're pretty lucky then that the first ghoul you saw is a stud like me. Not everyone can be blessed with my fine cheekbones."

"You're blessed with something, all right." Nora quips without thinking, then winces. Before the Vault, there'd been no need to keep a lock on her smart mouth; now she's always aware that sarcasm in the wrong place could get her killed, but it's a hard habit to change.

Hancock doesn't take any offense; rather, he grins even more, and leans forward to rest his elbows on the table. His eyes are still a little unsettling, the way they're almost completely black.

"I knew I'd like you. Well, I'll leave you alone so you can enjoy your night. See you around, sister." he clinks his bottle against her glass and takes a long pull. She can see individual muscles around his throat working to swallow.

She only stays long enough to finish her one drink, then leaves. Hancock is still there, alternating swigs of his bottle and puffs of jet as she lets the door close behind her.

Nora's half afraid that Bobbi's stupid move has burned all her bridges with Hancock, but he takes the whole thing in stride. It seems he always has the opposite reaction of whatever she expects, but somehow, it works. Mayors in her time weren't anything like him; they were stern, old, hard-headed things, usually soft with the luxuries of office. She'd been across the room from plenty in her days as a lawyer.

He'd shrugged it off like it was no big deal. Nora is surprised to find that she really would have been upset if Hancock hadn't forgiven her; somewhere along the line, she'd started to respect the smoothtalker. And, well, maybe she even liked him.

"You got a little time, sister? No need to hurry out. Sit down, talk a load off." he says, after their serious talk is done. He gestures her to one of the couches in the room and flops down on the other. She sits, happy to be off her feet for a while.

His office looks like no other mayor's office she's ever seen. The bulk of the room is taken up by the two couches with a coffee table in the middle. There's a desk with a computer over on the side, but it doesn't look like it's very frequently used. Every flat surface is littered with drug paraphernalia - stimpacks, syringes full of med-x, little tins of mentats. Hancock picks up one of the mentats tins - berry, she notes - and pops a few into his mouth like they're candy.

"You don't have to stay if you have shit to do, I just thought you might like a breather. You're looking a little rough around the edges." he says. That's probably the nicest way anyone has used to tell Nora she looks like shit. She knows she does; it's been five days since she showered, and she's got a fat lip and a huge gash through one eyebrow that she'd had to stitch together herself.

"It's been a while since I had a chance to rest, yeah." she replies, smiling at Hancock. "Thanks."

"No problem. In fact," Hancock suddenly leaps up from the couch and strides over to the door, pushing it shut firmly and flipping the lock. "I think it's time to close up shop for the day. Don't get weirded out, it's just that if I don't lock the door, people barge the fuck in anyway. Want a beer?"

"Yeah, sure." Nora says. Hancock crosses to a fridge nestled into the corner of the room and pulls out two, expertly popping the tops off on the edge of the counter. He hands one to Nora, and she starts a little at the unexpected texture of his fingers, but he pulls away quickly enough.

"You're quite the host. What's next, hors-d'eouvres?" she asks drily, because she knows he can handle her snark. Most people take offense, but she thinks Hancock understands that it's a sign she likes him.

Nate had understood that too.

"You may not know it by my rogue-ish good looks, but I'm quite the gentleman. And it never hurts to be seen in the company of a pretty lady." he says smoothly as he sits back down, kicking one boot up on the coffee table. Nora relaxes slowly into the couch cushions and thinks about taking her chest plate off; she's not sure how long she's invited to stay for.

"Hancock, you locked the door. There's nobody around to see." she shoots back. The ghoul gives her a lazy smile and drains half his beer in one gulp.

"Well, I don't always like to share. I'd hate to be fighting someone else for your attention."

Nora laughs a little and takes a sip of her own beer, content to relax and trade jibes for a little while.

An hour later, Hancock is blitzed out of his mind on a mix of mentats and jet, and Nora has had enough beers that standing up is a challenge. She hadn't intended to get this drunk, but the endless supply of alcohol and good company is hard to say no to.

"Ugh…" she groans, turning her face into the couch arm. Hancock has given up on sitting upright and is sprawled down the length of the couch, his trusty hat tipped forward to cover his eyes.

"I haven't even rented a room yet. I don't even know if I have the caps to rent a room." she mumbles into the fabric. Plenty of people wander around Goodneighbor drunk or high, but she's still uncomfortable with the thought of being impaired here, where so many people are waiting for an easy mark. It's not a far stumble to Hotel Rexford, but her pack must weigh at least a hundred pounds and she's barely in control of her own 150 right now.

"Stay here." Hancocks volunteers, peeking at her from under his hat. "No, seriously. You know how often I sleep on this damn couch? At least once a week. Besides, if you decide to go down to the Rexford, I'd have to be a gentleman and walk you, and I really am not feeling that right now."

"So clearly, the gentlemanly thing to do is offer me your couch." she says, amused. Hancock picks up his Jet dispenser, shakes it, and throws it across the room with a sigh when he finds it empty.

"See? You're catching on. There's a half-dozen guards out there to keep you safe from all the biggies and baddies. Don't worry."

"And am I safe from you?" she asks, both a little bit serious and a little bit joking. Hancock just gives her that cocky grin and kicks his boots off one by one.

"Only as safe as you want to be, sister, you know what I mean?"

She throws a mentats tin at him. He lets it hit him in the chest and then cracks it open to pop a few more.

She stays the night. When she wakes up in the morning, there's a bright red frock coat draped across her shoulders, warm and smelling of rust. Hancock himself is absent, but there's a med-x syringe and a bottle of water waiting for her on the coffee table.

"Oh, shit - oh shit -"

Nora inhales sharply when he hits that spot again, and keens when he rolls his hips just right. Her thighs are starting to burn from keeping them locked around Hancock's waist for so long, but it's hard to care when he's hovering just above her, slamming into her in a way she didn't even know she liked. When he looks down at her, his eyes are dark, even darker than usual, and then his forehead drops to touch hers as he pants and struggles to keep his pace.

Nora hears it in his voice before she feels it. It's a long groan that makes his chest vibrate against her breasts, and then she can feel the pulsing and the wetness down below as he comes. It feels good, so good, and it's almost enough -

One hand reaches down and rubs at her clit, and she's done. She digs her fingernails into his bicep as the pleasure wracks her body and he moves a little bit to let her writhe underneath him. It seems like it goes on forever before the waves start to weaken, and then she's content to collapse back into the mattress and let out a long, satisfied breath.

Hancock rolls off of her and collapses similarly. Her fingernails have left little crescents filled with red on his arm, but he doesn't seem to be complaining. It's way rougher than she'd ever been with Nate.

"Well now, that was - something else." He says eloquently.

"Good." Nora says in reply, poking him in the side with her elbow. "The word you're looking for is good."

The smirk she gets in reply is toothy. "Well, I mean, it's in my top ten at least. Top five may be pushing it."

Nora gives him an offended look and rips the pillow out from under her head to smack him with it. He laughs, full and throaty, and wrestles the pillow from her grip, then pulls her on top of him and locks his arms around her waist so she can't escape, not that she's trying that hard.

She nearly forgets, nearly leans down to kiss him, so used to this position and being held by someone that cares for her - but kisses are for couples, not for wasteland fuck-buddies. That's not what this means to either of them; even the sex had been unplanned and (initially) tentative.

He's still soft, and she's too spent to think about another round anytime soon, but the way he's lined up against her, just pressing at the wetness in between her legs, feels satisfying. She's glad this happened, even if she's not entirely sure how it's going to change their traveling arrangement. It feels a little weird, to have someone touching her that's not Nate, but she's starting to get over it.

"Hey, uh…" Hancock says, uncharacteristically hesitant. It brings her gaze back down to him, to his noseless face and his ruined lips, and those dark eyes.

"Thanks for this. I know my personality is hard to resist, but surprisingly, offers sort of dried up after I became a ghoul. I'm glad this ugly mug didn't throw you off too much." he says, the edges of his eyes crinkling as he smiles.

Nora hesitates, wondering how to respond. Everything she thinks of sounds too… well, too attached. She certainly can't say, 'that's what friends are for' because she's pretty sure she's never had a friend that she slept with routinely. She could maybe say, 'I wouldn't have you any other way' but that seems too much. Too - emotional.

Hancock sense her hesitation, and his arms loose around her waist. He looks away uncomfortably and clears his throat.

"Hey listen, if this isn't - "

Nora panics and grabs his shoulders before he can slide out from under her.

"No, Hancock - that's not it. I just hate that you think this was anything less than exactly what I wanted."

Okay, so maybe it's a little lawyerly but it's sort of a habit to slip back into it when she's not sure what to say. It works, because Hancock stops trying to get out from under her and just lays back with a smile, eyes tracing up and down the part of her that he can see. There's a hint of possession there and it makes her skin shiver a little bit.

"Well then. I'm not opposed to, uh… giving you 'what you want' again in the future, if you dig." he says, running his hands down her bare back. She remembers when the feel of his hands was foreign to her, too rough and confusing, but now she likes it. It makes her sensitive skin shiver where he touches her, and it's tougher under her own questing hands. Nate had complained when she got rough in bed; Hancock just smiled and encouraged her to keep going.

"So, in the next twenty minutes?" she says teasingly, sliding her hand between his hips and hers so she can tug on him lightly. His hips buck up and he lets out a groan.

"Well, now that you mention it..." he says with a distinctly evil grin, just before he flips her and pins her to the bed.

She wakes up to full sunshine streaming in from the windows. It's heating up the room a little bit, but it's still chilly enough that she snuggles under the blanket and wiggles into the heat at her back, unwilling to get up just yet.

"Morning, beautiful." she hears from over her shoulder, just before an arm snakes around her waist and tugs her even further in the warm torso at her back. A pair of rough lips kiss her shoulder, and then she turns her head so Hancock can kiss her properly, long and slow because they finally have the time for that.

"Mmm. Morning." she murmurs back, smiling. She lifts his arm from her waist and flips over so she can face him, slotting back in against him and burying her face in the crook of his neck. They'd both had a chance to shower last night, so he smells only of himself, rust and something clean like springwater.

"Still not sure what I did to deserve this." he says, tugging on the hair at the base of her neck gently.

Nora rolls her eyes because they've had this argument already. She's long since figured out that the smooth-talking, confident ghoul she'd fallen in love with had a more hesitant side underneath, one that was always questioning their relationship, but she's okay with that. It feels good to be that valued.

"Well, you did make me dinner last night. And romance me most thoroughly." she says. "Though if you want, I suppose I could make you a list…"

He snorts and shakes his head.

"You already did that, remember? When you accidentally took those double strength mentats that knocked you on your ass? Trust me, you gave me a full recounting."

"Well then, I guess another isn't necessary right now. Let me know when it is, I know how you loved your ego stroked."

Hancock yanks her pillow out from under her head and smacks her with it. She retorts by running her fingers up his sensitive stomach and for the rest of the morning, their laughter rings out through their little house in Sanctuary.


End file.
